Lauren Everdell
Bio
Writer. Chronic sickie. Part-time gorgon. Probably thinking about cyborgs right now.
Website: https://ubiquitousbooks.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scrawlauren/
Twitter: @scrawlauren
Stories (19/0)
Dear Heart
I’m planting tulips when I hear them. Voices, drifting smoke-like through the trees. Standing, I listen, staring at the bare earth. Thinking of the tulips that, come spring, will press through the dirt to spread white petals for the sun. They’re Swan Wings. Agatha’s favourite.
By Lauren Everdell4 months ago in Horror
Timberline
The silence is absolute, as if time never began here and never will. How can I describe it? As if a wall of glass has been placed by the great hand of a God in the midst of the forest, and no living thing may pass. The trees crowd against their limit, aching to reach into the barren land, and their longing embitters them. They grow twisted, their bark black and limbs contorted.
By Lauren Everdell5 months ago in Horror
Clever Little Farm Girl
Thyme winged her oars through the air, guiding her boat toward the empty suspirating pen. She stowed the oars and tied off, standing with practiced balance. Studying the blue field of sky, she tried to shake off her unease, to focus on the dawn-stained clouds.
By Lauren Everdell6 months ago in Fiction
Undying Girl
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But there’s nothing silent about coming back to life. Rising from the dead is cold metal and burning light. A shrieking nightmare. And it’s fast. One second the darkness is total, the next it's as if there’s an icicle buried in the front of your skull. As if a switch has been flipped.
By Lauren Everdell6 months ago in Fiction
Carnaval Des Perdus
You are signified by The Fool. Innocent, and young. Change lies at your feet. Years pile into decades and fact becomes history, becomes rumour, becomes story, becomes history again. People wonder, how can the cabin be so desolate. The land around is vivid. Apples like rubies in its orchards, wildflowers in its grass. Animals drowse and graze in its meadow sunlight.
By Lauren Everdell7 months ago in Fiction
